


Ask and Tell

by phamnotof



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Tour Fic, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phamnotof/pseuds/phamnotof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, so what's the deal with Dan and Phil, anyway? Are they dating?”</p><p>A story about questions that don't need to be asked, as told from a point of view of a TATINOF crew member.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask and Tell

Jane has no intention of asking. She's not going to ask. She's not she's not she's not.

It's not a rule, per se. Nobody was asked to sing a terrifyingly looking document with thirty clauses regarding not spilling your beans on the internet and not sticking your nose where you're not supposed to. There were contracts, of course, but based on her previous work, nothing out of the ordinary.

She's a bit ashamed to say she expected that. She didn't know a lot, but she knew enough to know there were questions. Uncertainty fueling what seems to be half the internet. 

But she's not going to ask. Not that she can't ask, but she's not going to, because – she's just not, okay? Stop pressuring.

She can't tweet their location until they're leaving. She can't spoil the show. She can't shit on the bus. That's pretty much it.

And yet, there seems to be about a hundred other rules that were never written or verbalized, but that everybody is somehow supposed to know.

Don't stay up late reading or partying, because seriously, nobody's going to care how tired you are the day after, this is a job, not a paid-for adventure with some side merch fun. Don't bring smelly takeout to shared spaces unless you bring enough for everyone. Don't wake Dan and Phil up when they're napping. Don't tweet about them. Don't try and attract too much attention of their fans to yourself. 

Don't ask. You don't need to know. Don't ask about that one thing that's been nagging at the back of your mind with renewed urgency ever since you accidentally saw Phil push away Dan's fringe with such tenderness after he's fallen asleep in the dressing room last week.

Everyone asks. 

Don't be just another number.

Jane learned this the hard way, kind of. Lucy, who was only tagging along for the fist week of the tour, asked. She directed an off-handed question at Martyn as they were loading the truck in Florida and laughing along to casual banter.

“Hey, so what's the deal with Dan and Phil, anyway? Are they dating?” she asked, seemingly not bothered by the outcome either way, just like you'd ask any random stranger you found yourself talking to on the sidewalk about the weather.

And it's not like they got angry. Martyn momentarily froze up mid-laugh, Cordelia gasped and then giggled awkwardly. There was a few seconds of silence as uncomfortable as anal probing, and then Martyn smiled, shook his head and said: “Of course not.” 

That was it, really, they went on working. But something changed after that, the atmosphere was somehow heavier, and poor Lucy who's a total pro that has been working with far bigger names for far longer than Jane could imagine, has two moms and never even kind of bothered to google their internet-famous fringed bosses because they were just another gig to her was left somewhat flummoxed, wondering what she did wrong.

Things got back to normal in a few hours, everything seemed forgotten, everything seemed fine, and Jane even considered she'd just imagined the whole uncomfortable tension because unlike Lucy, she did do some basic research before coming onto the tour. But when the crew went for drinks that evening, Lucy somehow seemed to be the only one who did not receive a text invitation.

So no. Jane isn't going to ask. Because it doesn't matter, and there probably isn't anything to know, anyway. It's just residue anxiousness originating in an endearing but occasionally over-invested fanbase.

And even if it wasn't. She's still not going to ask, because she loves this job. It's everything she could want and more, it's being barely twenty and seeing half the world, it's waking up at the crack of dawn, bleary-eyed and exhausted but still too excited to explore to even consider going back to sleep.

So she doesn't ask. And everything seems fine. 

But that doesn't mean she doesn't, sometimes even without meaning to, notice things. Like Dan's hands on Phil's knee, comfortable and probably not even conscious, just a natural resting place. Like Phil somehow always being the one to carry a bag and Dan doing so sporadically at best, and yet both of them always appearing to have packed everything they need for the day. Like a bus she took a tour of on her very first day being talked about as if it had magically grown an extra bedroom overnight and becoming off limits to around the same time.

They're having a dinner one night, a spur of the moment celebratory thing. It's Ted-the-bodyguard's birthday, so they're allowing themselves the cheapest off-brand champagne before their starters arrive and the atmosphere is just a bit fancier than during their usual get-togethers.. They sent and invite up to Dan and Phil's room (don't ask, don't ask) – they usually do on the occasions that the schedules of the stage crew and the merch crew sync up. They're just about to cheers for the third time to nothing in particular when Jane notices them.

They're too tall, hovering awkwardly by the entrance, a gift bag near the end. There's a pronounced space between them, just a few inches, seemingly practiced to perfection. The silence only lasts for a few seconds, then everyone seems to get over their shock – the crew gaping at their bosses suddenly showing up after weeks of sealed up alone time, and Dan and Phil themselves seemingly surprised they're visible to the table of people now eagerly shuffling around to make space in the middle of the long table.

“We couldn't miss the birthday of our favorite personal bodyguard,” Dan smiles at Ted, handing him the gift bag and shaking his hand to wish him a happy birthday, Phil following right after him. Shared gifts seem to be another thing that's just accepted as a given, and judging by the way that Ted's eyebrows lift up when he peeks into the bag, it's not because the two men were being cheap, either.

“I'm your only personal bodyguard, Dilly,” says Ted with an eye roll, but there's no heat behind it. The nickname has surfaced sometime last week is yet another thing that Jane thinks she's not supposed to ask about. 

“That makes you all the more special,” Dan shrugs and pours himself and Phil a glass each. “So what were we cheersing to?”

When the main course arrives, they've settled into chatting comfortably about nothing in particular. Phil's in the middle of telling a story about how they got lost on their walk near a gas station they were stopping by, and how the bus driver had nearly called the police, he got so terrified.

“So now,” Phil smiles brightly, and Jane's in awe of how captivating his storytelling is, she's always figured he'd be the ever-present quiet counterpart to Dan's outpouring of thoughts, “Ted refuses to let us out of his sight just to go to the loo.”

“You nearly gave me a heart-attack,” Ted laughs. 

Everyone starts digging into their food slowly – it's a set menu, always easier and faster, a nice-looking steak with some baked potatoes and fresh veggies. 

Jane notices that without exchanging so much as a look, Dan automatically takes Phil's tomatoes off of his plate and puts them on his own. Phil does the same with Dan's kale. After a few seconds of poorly hidden staring, she also notices everyone else noticing, wearing expressions of varied confusion and amusement.

“What?” Dan asks, but doesn't bother waiting for an actual question. “Phil hates tomatoes. I hate kale. It's just convenient.”

“A good system,” Cornelia nods, snorting into her beer.

Everyone goes back to eating comfortably after that, and nothing really changes, but if possible, Jane thinks that the lack of a dramatic overreaction to a very mundane habit makes both Dan and Phil sink more comfortably into their seats.

They're the first ones to excuse themselves short after the dessert, wishing Ted a happy birthday once again, thanking everyone for the invitation and yawning comically. 

When they ask for the bill a few hours later, all pleasantly buzzed and excited to get some sleep, the waitress informs them that the bill has already been footed.

“Fucking show offs,” Martyn rolls his eyes affectionately.

And that seems to be that.

*

They hang out a few times until the end of the tour, always in similar settings. Jane forgets most of her questions and just enjoys Dan and Phil's company whenever that happens to be the case, which isn't often. She makes amazing friends amongst the crew though, and even at 20, she somehow knows that they'll remain close for a very long time after the last cat whiskers have been drawn. 

On the day before the last show, there's a small party/gathering just for them, just for the people who've been roughing it on tour buses from day one. Dan and Phil are smiling so brightly, it makes the whole room seemingly glow. People are chatting happily, reminiscing and occasionally tearing up.

It's nearing midnight and nobody wants to leave, but they still have a show to put up tomorrow, so they know they've got a last few moments to soak up the togetherness and the weight of the shared experience, almost palpable in the room.

“Everyone, if we may?” Dan clears his throat awkwardly and the room quiets down. “We just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone.”

“Yeah, you guys have been incredible, we couldn't have wished for a better group to come together,” Phil nods by his side. “We can't even begin to tell you how much we've loved every minute of this.”

“We've made some of the best memories of our lives on this tour, and all of you were a part of that,” Dan continues. 

“Yeah,” Phil nods along some more. They go on about their hard work, but Jane freezes at that moment. It's only then she notices they've been holding hands for the whole time.

“Something up?” Martyn appears by her side, smiling warmly.

Jane points in the general direction of their joint palms.

“You must be the last one to notice,” Martyn chuckles. “They're not exactly subtle. Or even really hiding.”

“I mean, not really, but – but I thought it was...” Jane struggles to form her thoughts.

“Their story to tell?” Martyn smiles next to her. “It really is.”

**Author's Note:**

> reblog on tumblr maybe? http://pheelsamazinglynotonfire.tumblr.com/post/144750640965/fic-ask-and-tell


End file.
